The Roads We Take
by RobinsGirlWonder
Summary: Part 3 of the Sacrifice of Fate series. Chloe is reunited with her family in Metropolis, and the world seems on edge as Dean makes a deal he can't go back on. But, when Fate pulls them all together once more to cross paths with one of Hell's most honored prisoners, how will the cards fall? Chloe is torn between the man she knows she'll lose, and the one she knows she can't have.
1. Answers Before Questions

**Title: **The Roads We Take  
**Verse: **Supernatural/Smallville Crossover  
**Genre: **Romance/Angst/Adventure  
**Pairing: **Chloe/Dean, Chloe/Oliver  
**Rating: **M for language, violence & sexual suggestion (**MA** on AO3 and LJ for sexual situations)  
**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. But dear god, how I wish I could own Dean Winchester. :)  
**Summary: **At last, Chloe is reunited with her family in Metropolis, and the world seems on edge as Sam topples over the razor's edge and Dean makes a deal he can't go back on. But, when Fate pulls them all together once more to cross paths with one of hell's most honored prisoners, just how will the cards fall? Fate's mysteries deepen, the countdown begins, and Chloe finds herself torn between the man she knows she'll lose, and the one she knows she can't have. **Set through late season 2 of Supernatural (after Born Under A Bad Sign) through season 3, and season 10 of Smallville and beyond.**  
**A/N: **Hey, guys! First of all, _**WOW**! _Thank you to everyone who's been bearing with this series thus far, and patiently (or impatiently, which was a pleasant surprise) waited for the next installment! As you might have realized, I was a little focused on Once Upon A Time, but for the most part, that has passed. I'll be finishing those fics as well, but I am eager to crack open this fic now, and can actually dedicate the time for it JUST in time for us to go onto the hellatuuuus. Anyway, be sure to subscribe to me on AO3 or friend me on LJ, because, um, this one's gonna get racey. Like, downright what I would think you guys have been kinda waiting for. But, first, it's time to throw these crazy kids back into the mix! Also, thank you to** JJ2020, lita2extreme, Kristen** and all the others who left reviews on Born On A Monday! I am absolutely flattered that you all like this fic so much! Also, be sure to go check out **Pompeypearly** and thank V, since I highly admire ALL OF THE FIC and V was nice enough to encourage me to get back on this fic! Anyway, please **read, review **and let others know, if that's your kind of thing, as I love to hear what you think!

* * *

Chapter One: Answers Before Questions

* * *

**424:12:52.49**

_I've been having these feelings. _

_**With the Bell and Wheel and Jar**_

_**Demons Three, Near or Far**_

_Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it. Day by day, it gets worse. _

_I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you. _

_**In The Pit of Hell they Dwell**_

_**All loyal generals**_

_It didn't have to be this way. Or maybe it did. _

_My daddy shot your daddy in the head..._

_You're not Sam. _

_**And there he barters**_

_**And here he martyrs**_

_You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look as Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door. _

_Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine ... _

_It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!_

_**The Faust, The Faust! He shall cry**_

_**And rise with Blood upon the sky**_

_Hell is like, um, Well, it's like hell. Even for demons. It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear; And you sent me back there. _

_Meg. _

_Whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you'll do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your Dad, and deep down you know that you can't save your _

_brother. They'd have been better off without you._

_**And there she cries**_

_**And there she dies**_

_I was awake for some of it, Dean. I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes. _

_Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do I'm going to save you. _

_**Gone! Gone! - The Form of Jar**_

_These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight._

_**Toll! Toll! - The Form of Bell**_

_I'm looking for the best and brightest of your generation. _

_**Spin! Spin! - The Form of Wheel**_

_SAM!_

_**Nabu, Nabu! The throng intones**_

_**And she is trapped and alone**_

"Chloe."

**424:10:32.23**

Chloe's eyes opened; her hand moved on instinct, reaching out for some invisible assailant as her heart pounded painfully, nauseatingly in her chest. Her breath came in sharp, staccato bursts. In the pitch black of the underground facility run by the Suicide Squad, her eyes couldn't focus. They found nothing in front of her but more shadows that threatened to swallow her. A staggered, choked gasp for air, sharp and atonal, echoed and made her jump again until she realized that through the roaring in her ears, that was _her own voice_.

Reaching back behind her, her slender fingers fumbled along the smooth surface of her nightstand before they desperately gripped the base of her desk lamp.

Light flared like a beacon in the small room, illuminating the sheen of sweat running down the blonde's face in all too noticeable beads. At once, her shoulders shook as tension and momentary suspense, fear of the unknown, was chased away along with the rest of the demons. Shadows gave way to simple furniture that held absolutely no emotional attachment to her, but comforted her nonetheless.

Chloe's breath kept tumbling out of her, one beat after the other, as she rode through writhing, wordless fear that had followed her from her dreams. In just the few seconds between the darkness and the light, the details of her dream had completely abandoned her, leaving only the trepidation and terror that she needed to work through.

Swinging her legs over, she slid out of bed and forced herself to her feet. Padding over to the small spartan bathroom in her equally spartan quarters, Chloe immediately flipped on the faucet, leaning over the sink with her hands gripping the white porcelain tightly. Before her fingers could lock into that position out of stiffness and distress, she forced them under the stream, washing her face free of the sweat and grime. Images flashed behind her closed lids of the Winchesters, but they didn't make any sense.

Of _course_ her nightmares were about them. That's _always_ who occupied her nightmares. She hadn't spoken to Dean in five days, which was not unusual in itself, but both of them had known something was wrong with Sam. She'd been so focused on this truce - as shaky as it was - with Flagg, she hadn't been able to reach the brothers. Their phones still rang and went to voicemail, though, so that was something. She had already told herself twice not to use her considerable skills to track them down, but her patience was wearing thin. If she didn't hear anything by tomorrow, she would find them. She couldn't justify waiting.

As she stood upright once more, hands sweeping over her cheekbones to wipe water away, her eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror. Haunted. Cold.

Every day, less and less remained of the Chloe Sullivan who had started this journey.

No curls, no bounce in her step, and no twinkle in her eyes. Just the military precision of the Amazon people, the drive of Ted Grant's boxing liturgies, and the vast compendium of knowledge, mundane, arcane, and scientific, that made Chloe such a valuable commodity. And that's what she was, she knew that. The only reason Flagg had conceded to her, given her the austere quarters she had, was because he found a value in her. She'd taken down every one of his highly trained Suicide Squad with non-lethal shots without blinking an eye, Dean's training fresh in her mind. She'd hacked into his system and permanently wrested control of his missile system from him, and had seamless control over Solomon Grundy, thanks to Zatanna.

Maybe she should send Zatanna to check on the Winchesters... she'd been the key of Fate's cryptic messages about Grundy - at least, Chloe thought so - and had used the Gold K concoction to fashion a spell binding Grundy to the elemental soup of that swamp. As long as Grundy wore that Gold K around his neck, Chloe could influence him however she needed to.

Her face crumbled in the mirror before blurring entirely, and Chloe's shoulders shook as emotion overtook her. This was what she was now. She took advantage of things that went bump in the night. She was torn between two friends who needed to help and the heroes of the world she's given her _actual_ life to protect, with no way to escape the chasm below the razor wire she was walking. With every decision she made, Chloe felt like she had less and less to hold onto, to remind her why she was doing this, and that ultimately, she was making the best decision. _At what point do your ends stop justifying your means, Chloe? _She asked herself in the reflection. The dark circles under her eyes gave her a solid indication that her conscience had stopped being clear somewhere between meeting Dean and roping him into a plan that could've gotten him killed, putting his brother in danger.

"You're not God, you know."

The sharp pain in her temple coincided with the voice of someone she _knew_ to be dead as of that morning and she whirled, facing her bed. The signs of Fate's manipulations had grown less subtle over the last few days, as if to ensure she'd press on, doggedly pursuing the impossible goal of saving _everyone_.

That didn't change the fact that Carter Hall was sitting casually at the edge of her bed, in jeans and his red sweater, brown leather jacket fitting him like a second skin. He looked alive, scruff and all, with those sharp blue eyes staring her down as if he'd seen right through her. But, she knew it wasn't him.

He'd died the night before. _Icarus has flown too high_... Fate's words in the middle of Slaughter Swamp echoed even as she felt a momentary wash of hope, of relief at the sight of someone familiar.

But, then he smiled. And Chloe knew. The warmth was dashed against icy defensive walls in an instant, and Chloe's body stiffened in response. "You're not Carter." She said evenly, swallowing and glancing up at the ceiling so she could avoid that gaze, steeling herself for a conversation with a doppelganger. "And I'm getting tired of more questions with no answers in sight, Nabu. You won't even tell me where they've taken the rest of the team. I'm not asking for a walkthrough, but the dungeon _map_ would be nice."

He stood, hands tucked in his pockets as he walked closer to her, a towering sight like always. There had been the early days, when they'd first met the Justice Society, that Chloe had spent quiet patrols getting to know the Hawkman - much as he ever let anyone in. It was mostly listening to him and Oliver... Chloe swallowed, brushing thoughts of the archer away, pushing them deeper, burying them best she could. "I'm what you need right now." Carter smiled a little more, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tugged a little more at her memory. "Chloe, everyone has difficult decisions to make, and sometimes, the decisions we choose aren't the pretty ones. I shed blood as Hawkman. That never stopped you from seeing me as a hero."

She sighed, frustration and worry coloring the noise as she slipped around him, walking to her dresser. No more sleep this evening, it seemed. If Fate wouldn't let her sleep peacefully, then she wouldn't sleep at all. If she was even awake... The fact that he was there was yet another reminder to Chloe that since she'd met up with Dean in the swamp, the waking world and the dreaming world had a tendency to run together. "Okay, you need to _stop_. Like I said, you are not Carter, please stop playing with his memory and just be _honest_ with me, Nabu." She turned to face him as she pulled her black blouse with a flourish. "And you using Carter is a _low_ blow, he was Kent Nelson's _friend_." The venom in her voice didn't so much as make him flinch, but it did continue to feed her fire. "And Carter might've used a little more force than necessary, but that is not even in the same cosmic ballpark as me controlling a zombie. Grundy is more than just a monster!" Chloe's brow knit in concern, prostration. "You cannot expect me to take away someone's agency and be okay with that. This isn't what heroes _do_, Nabu."

"There are no easy answers to the questions you have, Chloe, but right now, you need to put aside your code, and follow the path in front of you." Carter's voice lowered into the growl she'd long since gotten used to as Hawkman. It was nostalgic, painful, and _not_ going to work on her.

"I am _willing_ to take his journey, but I need to know more." Chloe put the shirt laced between her fingers down onto the dresser. "I cannot put my ethics aside for this. This isn't just trying to gauge harm, you are _blurring the lines_ between hero and villain and I'm afraid I won't be able to see it anymore." The anger gave way to the darker fears she tried to keep at bay. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was Fate's touch, but she couldn't keep them buried. "I am losing myself in this funhouse, and I'm starting to lose track of where the mirrors end and I begin." And there it was. She knew that was what she was afraid of, and the demure expression on Carter's face told her Fate knew it, too. And he didn't seem to care.

She knew she had to sacrifice her sanity once day. She'd just hoped she wouldn't become one of the bad guys first.

"Chloe, there's more going on and it will all be explained to you," Carter held up a hand. "When you need to know."

"And I am telling you that I need to know _now_!" Chloe pled, only for another sharp pain to strike her temple with the force of a railroad spike. She buckled, the world around her forgotten as the deep spasm spread right from her temple to her forehead. She reached blindly for support, her hands shakily finding the dresser, but her knees couldn't take her weight. Chloe fell to the ground in a ungainly mess, still gripping at the dresser as the throbbing threatened to swell over everything.

"You're not ready to know all of it, Chloe." Carter... she could still hear him, could feel his hand on her back, stroking, coaxing, even as she clutched at the corner of the dresser, her forehead resting there for support while her eyes went wide, pupils blown as she tried to work through the pain. There was no golden light of Fate to encompass her vision, to free her here. This was something else, a darker conviction from the god-like creature who'd placed a seed of himself deep in her psyche. "You must follow the Path."

She felt something wet across her lips. A quick flick of her tongue told her everything: she tasted iron. Blood. "Fate..." She gasped as another throb sent her reeling, unable to breathe. "What've you done to me?"

_**What is necessary, Chloe Sullivan. You have Chosen This Fate. **_

_**You must prepare for what is ahead.**_

The world spun around her. The dresser became the buoy by which she held onto as her vision swam like she was in choppy Atlantic seas. Vague thoughts of Diana's arms wrapped around her as she pulled Chloe free from the fishing net Epione and Clio had accidentally caught her in at sea drifted by. Her vision blurred once more, dissolving into black as she aimlessly tried to cling to consciousness.

_At first, the words were syllables of a foreign tongue that had no meaning. And then, all at once, she understood. _

"_Give her room to breathe, stand back..." _

_She coughed, water spewing forth over her lips in an unpleasant way, salt burning her nostrils, throat, tongue and lips. The world was no longer rocking. The cyanide antidote had worked. She was alive... somehow._

_Her eyes focused on a figure above her. Black hair in long waves spilled over the shoulders of a very tanned, athletic woman, looming over her. She could feel fingers against her cheek, as if coaxing her gently to wake. "You are safe, sister... But you must breathe. If you swallow more of the ocean, you will be ill." _

_She felt herself being pulled up, still coughing up saline, still disoriented, and all she could focus on was the sound of the gulls. _

"_Do you know your name?" _

_The coughs finally subsided. She panted, the pristine beach finally setting in as her sense drank in the location. "My name... is Chloe Sullivan." She muttered, only for the honest realization to fall over her. Her voice broke, and she whispered like a child. "And I'm dead..." _

"Miss Sullivan?" The voice sounded miles away, and coincided with a powerfully nauseated lurch of her stomach that brought her back to the present. Chloe's eyes finally focused again, just in time for her to grapple for the small waste bin on the other side of the dresser. She heard someone call her name again, but it was completely ignored as she tossed her very unceremonious cookies and tried to orient herself once more.

When she finally managed to sit up and force herself back to her feet (the dresser was a lifesaver), the room was as empty as her stomach, no Carter in sight. Her head was now just a dull ache, not the throbbing spasms of the last... was it minutes? Hours?

Chloe looked over at her clock on the nightstand, the early morning glaring at her in red.

Hours, then.

She heard someone tinkering with her door lock, and after forcing bile and saliva back down with a thick shallow, she forced her voice to cooperate, sounding steady as a rock, even though she was still shaking. "I heard you the first time. Just getting dressed, gimme a minute."

"Oh, so you're not dead, that's good." _Flagg._

Chloe knew he wouldn't have come to bother her unless it was important. Their initial conversations about mutual goals had left them both with a desire for their own spaces. It was a business arrangement, and she was glad for it. She didn't want friends, attachments...

Dean's face flickered before her eyes as she made it to the sink and quickly filled a cup of water, washing her mouth free of the acidic taste. Her eyes glanced up for a moment, intent on returning back to the faucet, but the flash of rust on her skin made her double-take. Dried blood crusted all along her upper lip.

Fate's touch had once saved her. Now, it seemed to be taking more away. Darkness and pain had begun to take place of light and restoration.

Before the real concern could set in, Chloe washed her face again and quickly dressed, finding that shirt on the floor near her bed. After another moment to compose herself, to put on the persona that Watchtower had crafted, honed by the Amazon blade and set into place by an uppercut, she strode to her door and opened it, prepared with a quip.

Of course, that died on her lips when he beat her to the punch. Three words. Three words that put her thoughts of Fate, of Dean and Sam, of _everything_, aside.

"We found them."

**422:01:45.01**

_There is... a house... in New Orleans... They call the Rising Sun..._

_She's mine, she's mine, she's mine..._

_You're not hallucinating, Oliver, and you're not insane. Trust me._

_**One, two, blood taboo**_

_**Inscribed upon the purest jewel**_

_And it's been... the ruin... of many a poor boy... and God... I know... I'm one... _

_We weren't cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister. We were already out here. Hunting. _

_Hunting for what? _

_Ghosts. _

_I guess that's the true test of believing in someone - knowing that their lies are there to protect you. It's not really trust if you ask someone to explain themselves._

_**Three, four, ichor pour**_

_**Earth's Child now a whore**_

_My mother was a trader... She sewed my new blue jeans..._

_I'm sorry, Molly. 15 years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived. _

_Molly, you don't belong here. Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go. _

_You think she's really going to a better place? _

_I hope so. _

_I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh? _

_**Five, six, The River Styx**_

_**The Righteous Man to be transfixed**_

_My father was a gambling man... down in New Orleans..._

_Why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? What about us? Mom's not supposed to live? Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad?_

_Ava. _

_You've been gone for five months. My brother and I have been looking for you everywhere._

_You should have more faith in your friends, Clark. I came here to help you. Wherever the hell this is._

_**And dance on bodies all devoid**_

_**As Omega unites, all souls destroyed**_

_Oh, mother... tell your children... not to do what I have done_

_I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take you care of you. I've got you. _

_Darkseid's Apokolips. Evil in its purest form - the heart of human nature, obscured over time as something to be cast away rather than embraced. Hades, Kali - even the word "Lucifer" is an old Latin phrase meaning "morning star," "bringer of light." _

_But before the end of days, his rapture will be the only salvation._

_Whatever you do, you will always end up here. Whatever choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up—here. I win. So, I win._

_You're wrong._

_See you in five years, Dean._

_Spend your lives in sin and misery... in the House of the Rising Sun._

_**You cannot save them all, Chloe Sullivan. You have chosen your Fate. **_

**421:23:03.57**

Chloe's eyes shot open as she jostled awake, a momentary flash of gold in the dark. Where the hell was she? For a long, mortifying moment, Chloe's mind was still back there, in a murky place of thunderstorms and no rain, of white suits and the darkness approaching.

Oliver stirred beside her, pulling her closer into his arms, nuzzling his face into her neck before settling once more.

Chloe relaxed into the warm contact she'd been craving for months now. She was safe. In Watchtower. She was still wrapped up in sheets and Oliver's arms on the floor. She had saved them, just like Fate had promised her. Swallowing, she laid back against Oliver and tried to even out her breathing. It was almost impossible to believe that just yesterday, she'd been hacking through government systems in a desperate attempt to save the lives of everyone she'd come to think of as her family. But, they'd done it. Flagg's team had performed quite admirably.

So why did Dean's face flicker past and set her on edge all over again? There was no pain with the dream, but she'd seen too much to process. She could only recall bits and pieces, images without sound, words with no real meaning. And an ice cold weight of a terror unspoken, something dark, that had touched her in ways that frightened her. It was taunting her, just out of reach.

But, it was loss. Loss ate at her, an empty maw in her chest while she stared at the room ahead of her. Sam's face flickered past, stunned and frozen, and she blinked, shuddering as that fear washed over her again. Why couldn't she remember the dream? What was Fate trying to tell her?

Chloe shifted in the makeshift bed, and Oliver did the same, settling on his back, completely out. He was exhausted, in more than one way, but at least he was safe. She rolled over to face him in the darkness, her fingers caressing his jawline as she drank in how relaxed he finally seemed. Her worries melted as she let the world around her fade away. Oliver had a tendency to do that for her. When she was with him, there were no labels, there were no expectations, it just... _was._ Months of searching and running, months of wondering if the next day would mean her last, all for the hopes of saving him and her family... And he was here.

Chloe sighed, resting her head on his chest, hearing the gentle _thump-thump_ of his heartbeat in her ear. Her arms slipped around his waist a bit, hugging him best she could as she let herself be swallowed in warmth and comfort. Her eyes drifted closed, calm finally sweeping over her as she heard his breathing, and thought of how they'd spent the evening wrapped in each other's arms, not speaking, just sensing. She'd needed it. An experience completely physical and at the same time, emotional.

"_You plan on sticking around this time?" _

_She tried to ignore the way her heart screamed at the absolute unfairness of what Fate was doing to her. "Yeah." _

And just like that, the house of cards was swept over.

Chloe pulled away, her sad eyes drawn to that serene face as he slept again. This wasn't fair. This wasn't comfort. _This_ was the lie.

_**Would you sacrifice your sanity to save the Archer? **_

_**You will lose Oliver.**_

Chloe slipped out of the sheets and stood, grabbing one of the blankets they'd since kicked off, wrapping it around her body with its nicks and scars like anyone else's. Fate's words followed her even when she earnestly tried to forget them. This life she had right now was a lie and she knew it. Fate had shown her so much leading up to the rescue, and then stopped focusing on Oliver, instead choosing to give her visions and words she couldn't decipher or remember.

As Chloe made her way up the stairs to her second floor so she could watch the skyline through the ocular window, she found her thoughts drifting to Kent Nelson in his last days. Trapped in his own mind, like her mother, whispered ramblings interspersed with profound knowledge, useful only when Nabu took control.

And that was exactly where she was headed.

Taking a seat in one of her comfortable chairs, she curled up and watched as a news helicopter crossed her line of sight. The city was dangerous. Metropolis was no friend to its heroes, not right now. Not with Oliver wanted and Carter's death covered up. The Darkness... it was spreading across the city, faster and faster.

They were running out of time.

_**The Path is dangerous. **_

She sighed, shaking away thoughts of the words she _could _remember. Fate was of absolutely no help in the middle of the night. Especially when her dreams didn't seem to be focused on Oliver or the oncoming Darkness, but rather Dean and Sam. Something headed their way that she didn't understand and couldn't recall.

She turned her gaze from the window, her eyes instead falling to one of her desks. Desks were all over this place, and she still knew where every single item was kept. So, she was quite aware that one of her burn phones was in the second drawer from the bottom on the left-hand side of that desk.

After a moment's consideration, she stood and made her way over, grabbing the phone from the drawer - of course it hadn't been moved - and dialing a number she'd since committed to memory. With each ring on the other end, Chloe sank down into the desk chair beside her as her heart started to pound. Just a few days ago, she'd been ready to run after Dean, to find out if he and Sam were all right, but then plans had been derailed, she'd...

"'Lo?"

Chloe never answered, even if Dean certainly sounded alive and awake. She hung up and held the phone firmly in both her hands, tucking them into the covers on her lap, as if a child caught stealing candy.

She couldn't keep doing this. She had one foot in Hunting and one foot in Watchtower.

One hand on Oliver, and one hand straying closer to...

Chloe glanced up at the window, watching another helicopter pass by.

She was starting to understand why Fate could drive one to insanity. Impossible choices, and someone would get hurt.

One day, Chloe would lose someone. Fate told her it was Oliver...

So why did she feel like she was already losing the Winchesters?

_**The Path is Dangerous. **_

_**Chosen Girl, you must protect them at all costs.**_

_**You have Chosen your Fate, Chloe Sullivan. And theirs.**_


	2. Lighthouse on the Cape

**A/N: **Aaaah, reviews! You guys like it, yay! I'm soooo sorry that there was a delay in getting this chapter out, but it was being kind of elusive and I had a hard time nailing it down. Does it make it up to you if I say that this chapter is like, a 1/3rd longer than the last one? :D Due to the nature of this fic, I will give you a ballpark every chapter as to what episodes this falls during or between. To the guest I confused with the Fate flashes in the first chapter... I laugh maniacally because that is my plan! Mwahaha! No, in all seriousness, if you guys are confused about anything going on with Fate, let me know, I will try to answer in the least spoiler-y way possible, as Fate's scheme is quite drawn out and, wow, when I piece it all together, I am hoping it breaks you all. Thanks to **cupcakelover0822 **for the review, and to **Pompeypearly **for encouraging me to keep going with this. Also, I wish I knew why every time I put Sam in a scene with her, they just... ugh. They are so sweet. Just, all heart and friendly feels. As usual, please **read and review, **if you feel so inclined.  
**Timeline: **Set during Supernatural (2x18) _Hollywood Babylon_, and Smallville (10x13) _Beacon_.

* * *

Chapter Two: Lighthouse on the Cape

* * *

**421:15:45.31**

Chloe's feet had pounded pavement the moment shots were fired downtown, shattering the peace she'd barely found in Oliver's arms that evening. Banter had temporarily pushed away her fears of the night before, especially when banter meant keeping Oliver from donning a hoodie to play Ninja Arrow when he was wanted by the government for charges that even Chloe couldn't erase. Trumped up as they might have been, her clearance, her technological prowess - and Flagg's resources - only went so far.

It had been a blow to her pride to admit that there was too much data for even Chloe Sullivan - who had erased _herself_ - to find and remove.

All of that had vanished once morning came, and after the flick of her wrist and the click of her mouse, sniper shots had knocked Martha Kent off of her feet and sent both Arrow and Watchtower scrambling. If asked, she wouldn't have an iota of guilt over the fact that plan and machinations for the coming Darkness were left at the door. She'd dressed in seconds, grabbing jewelry she had on hand from the night before and clasping her necklace around her neck so she wouldn't lose track of it. Oliver had tried to follow her out the door, unsurprisingly. She could understand why he wanted to be there, but both of them knew what he was trying to ignore. It was too dangerous for Oliver Queen to be seen _anywhere_.

Eventually, she had convinced him to remain in the Watchtower and sped to Met Gen. Chloe knew she could be a force of nature when she wanted to be, and she had every intention of being exactly that way in this instance.

The moment she'd seen the hospital, the thoughts of blowing through the hallways like a tornado turned to ice in her stomach. There had been no word on Mrs. Kent's condition as she was rushed off, and uncertainty flooded in at the sight of ambulances and paramedics all around. All of her discipline, her big talk and big walk about staying cool under pressure was, for some reason, buckling beneath the surface. She didn't know if Mrs. Kent would be inside and recovering... or if Clark was going to be inside, decimated.

Taking a deep breath, letting the sickening jitters leave with the warm air, Chloe steeled herself and strode into Met Gen's Emergency Room. With each click of her heels, the world around her was closing in, the sounds of a couple of children, miserable and waiting treatment, and the chatter of adults fading. What if Mrs. Kent was gone? What would she do? She hadn't even seen her in a year, she'd been tracking her as the Red Queen. Chloe had gotten so focused on living life behind the screen that she had really let her connections to others dull. It wasn't until she was forced to detach, make new friends, allies, mentors, that she realized how far she'd distanced herself. In some ways, she was even worse now that she was back in Metropolis. Closed off to what was closest to her heart, even with the man she wanted to be honest with. No one knew about the Darkness, the promises she'd made to Fate.

Chloe turned the corner, catching sight of guards waiting outside of the hospital room she instinctually knew as Martha Kent's. Her breath caught in her throat, and a moment stretched for hours as she set her hand on the doorframe and turned to look inside.

She almost cried with relief.

Clark was speaking with his mother. She was up, their conversation wasn't a pleasant one, but she seemed fine. Chloe clutched at the door frame, slowly letting out her breath as she heard Clark's obviously worried tone.

"But, I'm not gonna let you go on a suicide mission for me." Chloe's heart ached for him, but she kept silent even as her brow furrowed, her lips pursed in her uniquely worried expression. "The person who did this to you is still out there. I'm gonna find them." She couldn't blame him for being angry, defensive, concerned. It was his own mother, and she never thought twice about the sacrifices she was willing to make. Chloe could understand that. She'd been doing it her entire life, and now, she especially knew the cost of her family's safety. "I'm not ready to say goodbye to you, too."

Chloe's chest tightened and her heart twisted in sympathy, but there was nothing she could do to soothe his concerns. A gust of air signalled his departure, and Chloe was left loss, concern, sympathy, and a woman infinitely stronger than the little-nerd-that-could would ever be.

"He's just worried about you, Mrs. Kent. We all are." Chloe's voice was smoother, more empathetic and less worried than she'd felt just moments before. She settled her hands in front of her as the older woman turned to face her, and Chloe was stuck by the subtlety of Martha Kent's strength. No one had ever matched that in Chloe's experience, and she didn't think anyone else would. She _completely_ understood Clark's reluctance towards Martha's very vocal support of the world's heroes. Chloe swallowed at Martha's gentle smile, a grace that made her want to take her problems away for her. With a tilt of her blonde head, reminiscent of the little girl who used to spend her days at the Kent Farm helping Martha make the occasional pie, Chloe moved forward. "Oliver really wanted to come, too, but I was afraid he'd get recognized." Before she realized it, her arms were around her in an embrace, barely keeping her emotions in check. Martha was so important to everyone she'd touched, and Chloe was just a small part of that influence. So, naturally, the moment Martha winced, Chloe pulled back and instantly regretted the hug. "Sorry." Martha just smiled, taking everything in stride. Chloe knew she needed to put that mask on that she had grown accustomed to, the same mask Dean and Sam had seen almost the entire time they were fighting a murderous _ghost_, for God's sake. She glanced down at the bandaged wound on Martha's shoulder and clicked her tongue. "Y'know, who would've thought there'd be a day when heroes need _this_ much protection." An empty chuckle escaped her lips, but Martha could see right through it. She could see the worry. It was like she knew that Chloe's conflict had been more than just this most recent brush with crisis. Chloe's curls were there, so was the quirky smile, but it was an act. And Martha could see it. Thankfully, she didn't call her on it.

"This is nothing new." Chloe's smile faded at Martha's reply. "A long time ago, Jonathan and I realized Clark wasn't just our blessing. Someday, we'd have to share him with the world." There it was again. A smile colored the blonde's features, a little more genuine, more in awe of Martha's tenacity and resolution than ever before. "Protecting him suddenly became a much bigger responsibility."

Chloe nodded, but she'd seen the toll it took on Clark, knowing what others did for him. "That explains why the Red Queen eventually entered the game."

Martha's eyebrows rose in challenge, the kind of subtle but scathing look only a parent could make. "I've been watching you, too." Guilt immediately colored Chloe's features in a way that would've made Diana scold her for not keeping her emotions in check. "I know you took over from where Waller left off." Of course she did. It would've been foolish to assume that because Waller had been ousted that Martha wasn't still watching the arms of Checkmate, the various rooks and pawns - like Flagg - to see where the pieces fell. "But, why did you leave Clark's side in the first place?"

Chloe swallowed. For just a moment, she wanted to tell her everything. She wanted to tell someone, _anyone_, the mysteries that Fate had dropped into her head and let fester. She wanted to tell someone about the nights spent curled up in a foreign bed in a foreign, unwelcoming locale as pain wracked her mind and body. But, she couldn't. Not even to Mrs. Kent. "Same reason you did." Chloe's half-truth flowed smoothly off her tongue. "It turns out there's a very fine line between being protective and being overprotective." It was a lesson that had taken Chloe almost an entire year to learn, and only because she had Oliver to focus some of her effort on. Even then, seeing how his attachment to her had been a distraction and was a large part of the irrational decisions he made, it had driven home for Chloe that she _could not_ always be there. If she was... she remembered the decimation Clark left in his wake when Waller kidnapped her. The way Oliver wrecked himself to try to bring her back...

"We both needed to leave for Clark to stand up on his own." Martha took a seat on her hospital bed as she spoke. There was always an ease to Martha's demeanor. Even the most difficult of questions, the toughest of days, she seemed to just breeze through with a careful, measured wisdom. "But, maybe we stepped away too far."

"Mrs. Kent. I never stopped watching his back." Chloe insisted without thinking. She'd gotten so distracted in her own thoughts, the mixed emotions of having left her family and coming back, the way she'd told everyone she was back for good, when she knew that Fate hadn't promised that to her. Was it Martha's minor inference of disapproval that had Chloe backpedaling, or was it the fact that she knew while she'd left, there had been moments where Chloe might've strayed too far. Martha's approval was never something Chloe thought she'd had to work for, but right now, she needed it more than anything. With her mind spinning the last few months in a constant tug-of-war between hunting the Winchester way and coming back to Watchtower, she needed to reinforce that she was doing the right thing. Now that she was back in Metropolis, Chloe desperately hoped Fate would stop trying to blur those lines between hero and villain.

"Clark needs you as much as the world needs him." Martha's words derailed Chloe's train of thought, forcing her right onto the station. "You're part of this family, Chloe."

If it had been a year or two ago, before she'd lost Jimmy, then lost Oliver, and lost her life down to her digital footprint, Chloe would have probably cried and hugged Martha, thanking her a million times over for what she'd said. And inside, she was doing just that. She wanted to hold her and cry and just tell her everything. She wanted to be fourteen again, and she wanted Martha to make pie, listen to Frank Sinatra on the radio, while she tried for the sixteenth time to teach Chloe how to knit.

But, that wasn't the life _this_ Chloe had; the 24 year old burdened with the Touch of Fate, knowing one day she'd leave _everyone_ because she'd be trapped in her own mind. The only clue she had to the details of that Fate was in the face of Dean Winchester, and he clearly didn't know. This was a family she would have to leave. She couldn't just take the open arms of the Kent family. Not now. Probably, not ever.

Chloe could at least try, though. For now. While she kept everything firmly locked away, she plastered a gentle smile on her face, one of those soft luminescent ones, and sat down across from the woman who had so easily accepted her. "You know," Chloe swallowed, sounding like it was a simple conversation about the state of Mrs. Kent's petunias. "Growing up, I never really had much of a mother figure to look up to. Until I met you." The weight, the pain of keeping everything to herself, unable to be truly honest with _anyone_... it all kept telling her that she just couldn't let Mrs. Kent know. But, she _wished _she could tell her. "You really taught me what it meant to take care of the people that I love." Chloe knew that what she was saying seemed innocuous, even if it was touching. It was what was behind those words that she longed to explain to someone.

"And as Clark's oldest friend, I can't think of anyone better to watch over him." Martha replied with a little smile. She reached up, touching Chloe's cheek with a little brush of her fingers. And that scale tipped in honesty's favor.

"I will always look after him, Mrs. Kent. As long as I am able." Chloe breathed, the resignation in her voice impossible to miss. "I just don't know how long that's going to be, and I don't think it's fair that he should have to lose his mother, too."

Martha's sweet smile faded in its entirety, worry furrowing her brow, wrinkled by too many years that had silvered her red hair as well. "Chloe, what're you talking about? Is something wrong?" Chloe was silent as she tried to think of how to put everything into some semblance of coherent thought. Where to begin? "Something that isn't about the VRA?" She reached down, touching one of her bangled wrists gently, but her voice was firm, darker, as she knew the Red Queen to sound. "Is this about the Winchesters?"

Chloe blinked and flinched, stunned by the name drop. There was no way. How could Martha even know about the boys? They were hunters, and hunters were practically urban legend. "How do you know about them?" She couldn't stop herself before the question was out of her mouth, and Chloe wanted to beat her non-existent poker face into the ground at that moment.

"I told you I was watching you." She reiterated as she leaned closer. "Chloe, what those boys do, how you found that creature Flagg has under his thumb now - "

"I did what I had to." Chloe said, as much for herself as for Martha. "Politics makes for strange bedfellows, you know that."

"But, the Suicide Squad? And supernatural guns for hire?"

"The boys aren't like that. The Winchesters are good men, they just bend the law - "

"They _break_ it-"

"Never mind, I didn't mean to upset you." Chloe found herself saying, and all consideration of being honest with Martha went out the window. If Martha had reservations about the Winchesters now, there was no way Chloe could tell her about her visions of her... sacrifice to Fate. She couldn't risk ruining whatever future good could come of her relationship with the omnipotent force. "I just meant that..." Chloe faltered for just the briefest second while she tried to quick-draw an excuse. "I meant that we don't know what's coming. For all I know, I won't be here in a year, two years. Hell, two months. We've all skirted death so many times, each of us has a target on our back and Death is just waiting to swing his sickle." She paused as she tried to tell herself that it was better if Mrs. Kent didn't know about what was coming. It was bad enough that she clearly had an inkling of the Darkness coming. If she _really_ saw Chloe as family, it would only hurt to know. It was Chloe's burden to bear. Alone. "I'm not saying something's wrong, I'm just saying that Clark needs you. Lois might be the port he calls home, but you're the rock he holds tight to in rough seas, Mrs. Kent." Chloe tried just one more little quirk of her lips, a furrow of her brow that was more sympathetic than concerned, and stood slowly. "That's not me, Mrs. Kent. And it'll never be. Family or not, I'm not his mother. So... please. Just be careful. He needs you. We all do." Chloe turned to leave, stomach churning as her face crumpled into a mixture of guilt and regret. Over the last decade, Chloe had had her fair share of arguments and things better left unsaid that had only hurt in the end. But, she'd never wanted to have to close off to the people she cared about like this.

"Chloe." Mrs. Kent's honest plea made her freeze in her tracks. Slowly, Chloe turned to face the woman she might've hurt more deeply than she'd ever intended. She just didn't know. Expecting a brush-off, or a stern scolding, Chloe found her resolve wavering again as the only other woman she'd ever considered to be a mother was looking at her with that forgiving, wise expression she'd mastered with years of dealing with Clark. "If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, I won't make you. Everyone has their own path to take," Chloe internally flinched at the choice of words. "And everyone has their own journey, but you don't have to walk it alone. You've been so busy staying away from Clark, Oliver, Lois, _everyone_, but you just seem more alone than I've ever seen you." Martha picked up her bag and her jacket, then crossed the distance between them. "You've been _very_ busy, and you've done remarkable things while you've been away from Metropolis. But, for all your talk about me being Clark's rock, I don't think you realize that you're just as much a lighthouse for the people here. You're a light to steer by, Chloe. The others have always looked to you in times of trouble, _especially_ Clark." Chloe's eyes dropped to the floor, finding interest in a crack in the tile as she tried to ignore how often she'd done things in the last two years that she knew, intrinsically, Clark couldn't, and wouldn't have done. "I know that you often take the harder road for the people you love. But, I don't want you to get lost in those woods."

"Mrs. Kent, I - " Chloe could feel the lie of '_I'm handling it' _on her lips, but she never got the chance to say them.

"Whatever allies you make, strange or typical, good or bad, trust what's in your heart. Trust the _goodness_ that's there." A hand on her chin made Chloe's eyes force back upwards, and she swallowed. "You've changed while you've been away, and I'm not sure I like what I see behind those pretty blue eyes of yours. You're such a good person, Chloe. Don't forget that."

A thick lump had formed in her throat, and by the time she tried to swallow it down, she blinked and felt hot tears slip down her cheeks. She couldn't speak, much as she wanted to, and instead forced a quick nod, sniffling slightly while she looked anywhere but ahead.

Thankfully, Martha didn't push it further. Point made, the older woman gave Chloe a gentle pat on her shoulder, another brush on her cheek, chasing away another tear, and moved past her.

She was right.

Chloe knew she'd changed.

And she didn't know how much longer she could keep up the charade that she wasn't the Chloe Sullivan everyone in Metropolis thought she was.

**421:11:03.05**

Chloe rubbed her temple as she opened up yet another command prompt window, battling a headache cause by the mother of all headaches: Lois. Heaving a deep breath, hoping that the rush of oxygen would hit her blood vessels and wake her up somehow, Chloe sat up straight and reached for her coffee cup. When Lois had casually asked her to hack into every major news network and post messages calling for every Blur fan in cyberspace to send videos of appreciation to a burn address, Chloe should've known it was going to be a long day. And that was only _half _of what Lois wanted her to do. After her rocky morning with Mrs. Kent, Chloe had been more than happy to take on the very journalistic endeavor of writing pro-hero prose exposing the attempted assassination from that morning and all of the good heroes were doing. It felt good to be back in some semblance of the bullpen. Lois had written the majority of what the general public would see, but Chloe enjoyed the opportunity to dust off her former Daily Planet kudos and do her Alma Mater proud. Only problem was that she'd written her first couple of articles to drop onto the major news sites and was doing the dry, technical hacking. Hence the need for coffee.

Chloe rose her blur-logo'd yellow and red coffee cup to her lips, but there was no blessed fuel for the Chloe machine. This was not acceptable.

With one cursory glance at the bottom of her mug, as if she could will more coffee into existence, she pulled herself out of her seat and walked over to her kitchenette on the bottom floor of Watchtower. Rinsing out her mug, she looked over at her coffee pot, where another 6 Chloe-sized cups of coffee stayed warm on the burner for her. She smiled, filling up her mug while the nutty aroma swept up to reach her nose. There was one real, true, completely selfish and materialistic benefit to being back in Metropolis - she had her coffee. And it was _good _coffee. It wasn't burnt, crappy, couldn't-find-a-Starbucks coffee that she'd choked down far too many times in horrible cash-only hotels.

Chloe paused, her mug warming her upper lip as a stray thought soured her coffee high.

Even with it being bitter as turpentine and twice as thick, Chloe's stomach suddenly longed for that burnt, horrible coffee from the cash-only hotels in the middle of nowhere. But, it wasn't because of the taste, it was because of the obvious connection to those transient things.

Chloe set her coffee cup down as the Winchesters completely invaded her otherwise Hunter-free day.

She missed them. It didn't surprise her, honestly. Ever since she'd left Metropolis, the people she _did _let in were friendships _forged_, not grown. They were nothing like her friends and family from Smallville; the people she'd been raised with, had grown up with, and even with Oliver, changed and evolved with. No. Ted, Bruce, Diana, Sam, and Dean... they were forged. Thrown together in the heat of intense dedication and focus to their individual causes, somehow Chloe was drawn to them until something greater, stronger was honed.

Ted was a bitter man, trying to kill himself slowly while he'd forgotten about what made him Wildcat in the first place, and it was in Chloe seeking him out, forcing him to teach her like one of his students, that he rediscovered his passion.

Bruce was a reckless vigilante whose responsibility to "his" city couldn't be tempered with the identity crisis he'd been suffering from. It was the shades of Oliver she saw in him that brought them together at Ted's behest, and through the uneasy alliance, helped bring Bruce's dream of the Batman to fruition.

Diana was a Princess, trapped on an island bogged down in her beautiful, yet ancient culture, wanting freedom to explore the world that Chloe had come from. It was in her mother's demands that Diana teach Chloe to be an Amazon, and thus the very symbol of what Diana was both proud of and yet hated for its stifling nature, that they became friends and received Hippolyta's blessing to leave the island. Their two different worlds had come together and formed a bond that Chloe had only ever felt with Lois, and even then, this was unique, unable to be duplicated with anyone else from the world Chloe knew.

And then there were the Winchesters. Sam and Dean. A unit, more than team, even at the worst she'd seen, Chloe had known just in one day that she couldn't accept one without the other. They were a true package deal. And she had had no interest in growing close to people. She was in Delight for her own reasons, and instead, Sam and Dean had dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of her isolation and into their circle. Their friendship hadn't been mutual so much as a demand on the part of the boys. Sam was the easier of the two to befriend, but even so, he had witnessed the power barely contained in Chloe's body, buried so deeply that she didn't control it, but rather it swelled and gushed forth like Old Faithful. And he'd accepted that. In fact, the two of them had that in common, although he wouldn't tell her what.

Dean's friendship had been more exhausting. Like a blacksmith trying to hone an axe from a blunt block to sharp blade, Dean and Chloe had tried to let each other in, but she'd kept things to herself and assumed that what she saw of Dean was what she was going to get. He'd surprised her as Bathory's influence sent Chloe spiralling, making her realize just how badly she'd misjudged him. Dean and Chloe were on the way to an easy rapport, much like the one she had with Sam. But, when it came to life or death, Chloe and Dean had both tried to dominate and lead. It wasn't until they were forced together in (well, at this point, it wasn't cliche so much as Chloe's sad reality) a twist of fate to spend a week in the swamps, peeling back layers, learning their quirks, each of them learning to trust the other with various skills that Chloe felt the steel chains link around her wrist and his. Sam and Dean were a unit, but Chloe would be a fool to think that Dean wasn't the more intense connection she'd formed, and that _terrified _her. Especially since her last entanglement had left her just thinking she couldn't read him. Dean was unpredictable when it came to his reactions with Chloe.

Chloe licked her lips as a pulse of longing surged through her. Thoughts of just how intense Dean could be had brought forth the very pleasant, but conflicting, memories of his body pressed against hers, the Impala's door handle digging into her hip as he kissed her with a measured strength that clearly showed Dean _wasn't_ all talk, but much more interested in showing how he felt, apparently.

She took a deep breath and turned to go back to her desk, but was distracted the entire saunter back. The smell of leather and aftershave in Ted's old office as Dean's hand grabbed her arm and held her close, his lips trying to tell her volumes while he tried to dissuade her from going after Flagg.

Great. Now she was _completely_ distracted. And guilt over the fact that she was lusting after a man who was probably half-way across the country right now was, surprisingly, non-existent. _Oh, this is dangerous, Chloe. We are not going to have an encore of your greatest flops._ This felt like the temptations that Davis had once held over her, subtly pulling her away from Jimmy without any effort.

The only difference was that now, Chloe was a ticking bomb, and she knew she'd already lost Oliver. That was probably why she found her thoughts drifting to Dean. That _had_ to stop.

Her phone rang on her desk, and Chloe blinked the thoughts away entirely as she sat back down and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Relief on a completely visceral level swept over her.

"_Sam!_" Chloe breathed, grinning from ear to ear in a way that was probably reserved for the younger Winchester and his puppy dog eyes. "It's so good to hear your voice!" Setting her coffee down on the desk, all but forgotten, Chloe rolled her desk chair back a little, running a hand through her hair. "I was worried. Please tell me Dean found you."

"What?" A ringing noise on Sam's end of the line drowned out whatever he was trying to say, but after it dissipated, he continued on uninterrupted. "Yeah, actually, he found me a while ago. Week or so."

"Were you hurt?"

A groan and nervous, but somehow not really happy chuckle escaped Sam's lips. "Um... no. I was... it's a really long story. I was possessed by a demon and then they managed to get her out, but, the whole thing is complicated... I did some..." Sam trailed off. Chloe didn't want to push him, so she let him take his time. The very _idea_ that someone could get possessed by a demon, and that a _hunter_ of all people would be... Chloe swallowed and made a mental note to start compiling more information on the supernatural for Watchtower's databases. Her files on hunters were paper-thin already. Of course, it was putting one foot in Hunting and one back in Watchtower, but Chloe told herself it was _just_ for research. Just for the benefit of the team. "It was bad. I'd rather not talk about it, actually."

"Of course. Believe me, I've had my fair share of experiences I never want to dredge up again." Chloe waited, to see if there was something else Sam wanted to talk about, but when he didn't offer, she found her mouth running on its own. It wasn't often that she started to compulsively fill the silence, but in this instance, she felt it was justified. "I'm glad to hear you're doing better. I would've gone to help, but unfortunately - "

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize. Dean told me what happened. Something about you two in a swamp with a zombie? And then you had to, and I'm quoting here, 'Go on some goddamn suicide mission 'cause you're infuriating and you don't owe that rich sonuvabitch anything.'" She groaned softly in response. "Yeah, I know. You did a number on him. What did you guys do for _five days_ in a swamp? I mean, didn't you want to wring his neck?"

Unbidden, images of those kisses flickered past at the question, and Chloe smirked, feeling completely at ease. Sam's voice alone had brought her back to those motels, sitting in the Impala with the boys listening to music while they drove to visit a witness, a generic sort of fantasy that Chloe had forced herself to acknowledge. She could forget Watchtower, the decade of history, of friends and family that were all too quickly going to lose her. Sam and Dean were nomads, and for at least the near future, their orbits and Chloe's orbit were shared. At least, that was what she told herself. She told herself that she felt so close to Diana, Dean, Sam and Ted because of their transient nature, not because there might have been an underlying reason that those intense connections had formed so quickly and felt just as powerful as her friendship with Clark or Lois... or Oliver.

"Anyway," Chloe blinked as Sam kept talking, trying to chase the sexual tension away. "He seemed, uh... different after I got back. Definitely seemed to be on slightly better terms about you, and I'm grateful for that, because I enjoy talking to you and don't need him griping in my ear."

She chuckled. "He's always gonna do that, Sam. I'm fairly certain that's how he shows he loves you." Chloe's eyes caught a flicker on her monitor, and she rolled forward, mindlessly beginning the process of hacking for heroes again. "So, where have you been? If he found you, I'm surprised you didn't call sooner."

"We were in a pretty intense case. In the middle of this thing with a werewolf and we had to..." Did Sam's voice shake? Chloe stopped typing. "Um..."

Silence. Chloe thought she could hear a sniff on the other line. No. He hadn't mentioned where Dean was. Why was he upset? "Sam, what happened?" Concern filtered right out of her. She'd been so scared for the brothers that every time she thought about their lives, she was afraid one or both of them would end up dead.

Sam cleared his throat so loudly that Chloe could imagine the way his whole body shook in response. He was steadying himself. She hadn't seen him upset, not truly upset before, but she knew that noise when he was growing tired, or bored. "We had to kill the wolf, and it was a mess. She was, um... she was really sweet. And I..." Sam went silent again. Chloe took the second to deconstruct that sentence. They had done it together. Dean was probably fine and... she'd completely not thought that Sam might've been upset because he was closer to the case and that was... sadly how it sounded.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I shouldn't have asked." Her heart sank. "We don't have to talk about it." She paused, an idea coming to mind that she knew was probably a long shot, but maybe it would cheer him up nonetheless. "Hey. Are you guys near Kansas? I'm, um, I'm back in Metropolis. You should come by for a visit."

Sam groaned a little. "Of course you'd ask now. We can't. I mean, not right now."

"Oh, c'mon, when was the last time you guys saw a movie?" Chloe teased, trying to drag a good mood out of him again.

"I guess it depends on if you mean in a theater or behind the scenes." Sam was chuckling now, but it was thick, she could hear tears still stuck in the back of his mouth. "We're actually, uh... _in_ LA right now."

"You are?" Chloe squinted in confusion and sat up straight.

"We're actually sort of... PA's on a really, _really_ bad horror film."

"You realize that between that and a good read of 'Tales of the Weird and Unexplained', that's a _date_ for me." Chloe found herself wishing she could sit and watch a good B-film with Lana, back when they were in school. How times changed.

"I'll be sure to let Dean know." Sam smirked, and Chloe flushed. Her eyes scanned the Watchtower, as if someone was about to pop up out of nowhere and berate her for the fact that Dean's brother was not making her conflicted feelings any easier to handle.

Clearing her throat, she reached up to brush a few blonde locks out of her eyes. "So, is this Dean's way of cheering you up after a rough case?"

"Actually? Yeah." He was relaxing; she could hear it in his voice. The further he got from whatever rough case they had, the better he sounded. "Not just me, though. He wanted the break. Of course... it's miserable weather. It looks like, I dunno, Middle-of-Nowhere, Canada. If there were no palm trees, I would go look for maple syrup and mounties." Chloe smiled, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Honestly, I just wanted to work after what happened, and Dean's busy, I dunno, pilfering mini-cheesesteaks from the catering tables."

"Man, I don't know if they have clinics for that level of junk food addiction, but Dean could use a visit." The mental image of his cheeks stuffed with mini-cheesesteaks like a chipmunk hoarding nuts for the winter was definitely amusing, though."He's just looking out for you. You two might be at each other's throats sometimes, but when the chips are down, he's there. I haven't known you two that long, and even I can tell."

"I know, I just..." Sam sighed, there was another ringing somewhere in the background. "I just hate cases like that one. I mean, _listen to me_. We call them 'cases' but she was a _person_, Chloe, and I let her down." Uh-oh. The spigot was starting to turn, and Chloe's expression sank along with that heart of hers. It was already in her stomach practically, how much lower could it go? She might just end up with a fully running faucet in a minute. "Shit," He hissed, more upset than Chloe had realized. "I wasn't going to tell you any of this, I was just calling to say hi, because I just wanted to hear someone who doesn't act like her heart's been stomped into a million pieces," Sam's voice shook again, and Chloe found herself wondering if she could beg Bart for a favor _just this once_ to go see him. He was in pain, and she wanted to fix that. "You deal with the hero crap, but you're still _normal_. You're not..."

"I get it, Sam." Her voice was warm, inviting, she hoped. Soothing. "I wasn't born being special. I just... kind of fell into the orbits of other special people around me. And sometimes, you just want to talk about things that aren't... y'know, whatever thing that went bump in the night this time." Not that Chloe would call herself an adequate example of a 'normal' person that Sam should talk to, but she could understand his desire for that false equivocacy. But, maybe that was what really bothered him... "Sam... you know, even people like the Blur have days like this. The things they wish they'd done differently, the people they wished they'd saved. It's _normal_ for you to feel upset." Silence on the other end. She had to hope he was taking what she said to heart. "And it's normal for you to do whatever you need to in order to move past that. But, don't let it bog you down. Don't become someone who sits there and notches his bedpost with the people he _lost_ rather than the people he _saved._" _Your brother was close enough to that with Bathory for the both of you._ "Everyone has sensitive points. Cases that are tough to shake. Me, too." The gold K necklace around Grundy's neck, even hours away, with the zombie secured in a Suicide Squad facility, probably reading a book and only retaining maybe a page or two of information, was proof that Chloe had regrets. She had cases and methods she found herself regretting more and more. "You just have to pick yourself up and keep trying. And I know you can do that."

Silence lingered between them so long that, if she hadn't heard that ringing again, she would have assumed he had hung up. "Thank you." He finally said, sounding more like himself than he had most of the conversation. "You are... scarily good at the pep talk, you know that?"

Martha's words of lighthouses rang in Chloe's ears. She smiled. "I'm just your friend, Sam, so I'm looking out for you. I swear, there is no script, no perfect speech to give. And I'm glad it worked for you."

"You don't sound terribly convinced of your abilities here."

Chloe's eyes drifted to the command prompt in front of her, cursor blinking, just as impatient as she was. "There's no blow to one's pride quite as acute as realizing your word isn't good enough for your best friend anymore." If there was bitterness in her voice, Chloe didn't mean for it to bleed through. She knew that it was unrealistic and more than a little selfish that Clark had pulled away from her so badly. The fact that in his own dream world, it had taken Lois's words to make him break out of his control, and nothing Chloe had said... it meant Clark had changed. He didn't need her anymore. At least, not the way he used to. It didn't matter how much Chloe had tried to encourage him, it had fallen on deaf ears the last few days. Lois's idea of anonymous, overwhelming support was something Chloe _wished _she had thought of on her own. The truth was, Chloe might've been good at cheering Sam up, but every day she felt like she knew her family less and less.

"I take it the reunion with your friends didn't go so well." _Understatement of the century. _

"Considering I'm attempting a massive 'we love the Blur' internet video campaign to boost said Blur's confidence? Let's just say that my decision to erase myself from everything and anyone, including them, did not leave them with the most... trustworthy impression of me."

"But, didn't you tell them why? I mean, you told us you were protecting them."

Another deep breath. She tried to bleed tension out so her shoulders would relax. "I was. And I told them all that when I got back. I mean, honestly, Sam, they're all acting like everything's just fine, but in reality, they all have reasons not to trust me now. I think the only one who took it at face value was Lois. I thought..." A nervous, disbelieving chuckle escaped her lips. "I don't know, I guess I thought that they would just accept it. You get it more than they do."

"Yeah, well, Dean gets it, too."

The chuckle died in her throat. "Sam, he doesn't know what you know. Not even my friends know what you know. What you've seen."

"I figured." The seriousness in Sam's voice surprised her, even though he'd shown he could be serious all the time. The two of them had shared several quiet conversations after their brush with Bathory. He had come clean about this darkness he saw inside himself, but he didn't know why exactly his father was so convinced of that darkness. Chloe had suggested that it was related to the same one her team was facing, but the more her visions and dreams persisted, the less she was convinced. Her dreams of Sam and Dean left her with paralytic fear, a terror that locked her lungs and throat in silent screams. It wasn't the same as the Darkness that left her anxious, unable to sleep, but ultimately focused. "Chloe, I'm not gonna tell him unless you want me to, but - "

"No, Sam, please don't - " Chloe could feel herself ramping up, but thankfully, Sam ignored her and continued regardless.

"If you need anyone to talk to, you can always call me. You don't need to be a stranger now that you're back with your friends in Metropolis. I mean... Hell, I'm the guy who tried as hard as he possibly could for 'normal', so I get if you want to detach, but don't feel like that means you have to be a loner. And if your friends don't trust you, then they need their heads checked." There was another ring, followed by a gruff shout that Chloe thought she could recognize. "I gotta go. I'll tell Dean you're doing okay. I'll talk to you soon, bye."

"Bye - " Chloe heard her phone beep as the line disconnected, and she sighed. "Nice talking to you, too, Sam." She slowly lowered her phone to the desk and glanced at the cursor, blinking expectantly. With each blink, she felt herself drifting further and further away now that she'd spoken to Sam.

They understood it. But Clark and the others didn't.

And they never would.

**421:2:51.56**

With Sam's conversation with her all but forgotten, Chloe had spent the last nine hours working on Lois's grand scheme. She had actually hardwire connected her laptop to the Planet's ethernet, just so she could have the additional streaming capability, and had everything in place for what she and Lois both hoped would be the significant push to get Clark to believe, not just in himself, but in his impact on others around him. She told herself that this was exactly what she needed to do, to help Lois. This sort of guerilla campaign was exactly what both of them excelled with.

As the minutes kept ticking closer to 10 PM, that sense of focus she'd regained was fading. The yellow glow from the lamp on the desk only highlighted how forlorn her expression was, even as she busied herself. It was nice to tell herself that she was integral to helping Clark's morale; but, she knew that wasn't the case. In reality, this was Lois's idea. And it _should_ be, Chloe knew that. While she'd been gone, if there was one thing that had gone right, it was Lois and Clark. They were stronger than ever, and it was... bittersweet.

Again, Chloe felt like she didn't belong. She didn't belong... _anywhere_.

"Cheer up, Clark! Lex, Lionel? You had a big win tonight!" Lois's voice pierced the sounds of the cleaning staff in the otherwise closed building, and Chloe quickly queued up her video program before standing straight.

Clark's voice joined Lois's as Chloe turned to face them. "I think we'll still lose today. And after this vote, I'll be an outlaw forever." Chloe's stomach swam as her nerves tried to get the better of her. She might've looked calm and collected on the outside as Clark stopped cold, but she didn't feel that way. The Darkness was still coming. Clark needed to be strong, to be sure of himself. She didn't necessarily know why, but she knew that Clark's conviction would be needed. And without his heart, there'd be nothing for him to hold onto.

"Hey." She said by way of greeting, smiling softly and tilting her head with its bouncing curls towards the laptop. "You might wanna take a look at this."

The unspoken question of 'What're you planning?' on Clark's face pushed all her fears away. He was her best friend, and for all intents and purposes, the closest thing to a brother she would ever have. He needed this. Maybe it didn't matter that he didn't believe Chloe. All that mattered was that she did what _she_ was supposed to do. She didn't support Clark because she thought it would get her something: she supported Clark because he deserved it. And it was what family did.

Clark's eyes scanned the website in front of him. "A beacon of hope shining light on the truth?"

Lois spoke up on his other side. Chloe knew that body language. Her cousin was all nerves. "It's our answer to the VRA."

Clark looked at them both expectantly, not sure what they were planning. Without further ado, Chloe moved towards her laptop and clicked the play button on her streaming player.

And just like that, the seeds they planted that morning blossomed into beautiful flowers of hope and support.

_"Hey, Blur, it's Brian. I'd like to consider myself a long-time supporter of these so-called 'vigilantes'..." _The faces passed across their vision almost too quickly, each message more inspiring and comforting than the last. _"I remember what it was like here in Metropolis before he came. You couldn't even walk the streets. Since the Blur came, we have hope."_

_"Being a hero isn't about being able to save every person from a mugging... but to give people hope." _Lois hadn't heard a word of the testimonials. Chloe had to, given that she wanted to vet out any false testimonials, but to her surprise, the first 10 she'd seen, the ones that were playing now, were like most of the others. There wasn't a single negative testimonial in the bunch. All of those messages did seem to be genuine.

_"The Blur is a symbol for integrity, morality, and selflessness."_

_"Thank you for helping me believe that heroes can and do exist." _Chloe glanced over at Clark, her eyes warming as emotion threatened to overtake her. He was in awe of the overwhelming support. Good. He deserved to be.

_"As long as you're doing what you're doing to keep our hometown safe..."_

_"When I see the Blur and others like them turn their differences into strengths, it gives me hope that one day, I can do the same." _They kept coming. She knew they would. If she and Lois wanted to, they could be up all night, listening to all these people tell Clark just how important he was, even if they didn't know him, didn't see his face.

"_Hey, Blur."_ Chloe stopped, the lingering half-smile on her face melting to slack-jawed surprise. The ruddy mop of hair, the deep voice, and that supremely hopeful look belonged to Sam Winchester. _"You, uh, you don't know me. And that's how it should be. I'm, uh... I guess you could say I'm a fan. But, that's not really why I'm leaving this for you, I guess." _To Clark and Lois, it didn't mean any more than the other testimonials they watched. But... Sam... they were in LA, what was he doing? _"See, thing is: the reason I look up to people like you isn't because of the notches on your belt, y'know? It's because of the strength of your character. It doesn't matter what the government says, it doesn't matter what some joe on the street says, it matters what your heart says. And your __**friends **__are part of that character. So, I mean, it doesn't matter where all of us are. We're your friends. And if you think we care? Look around you. Look at the people who've always stood by you. Because if you need a beacon, then just look at the people who are with you not because you're the Blur, but because you're their friends." _Sam smiled, clearing his throat, and Chloe's heart nearly broke at the sound. _"Good friends are family, Blur. And seeing you, doing what you do... it reminds me that there's family. For everyone."_

The screen changed to another video, and Chloe quickly blinked back a mist of tears that threatened to fall.

_"Everybody has a favorite hero. My favorite hero is the blur. We love you, Blur. We're always here for you."_

Clark reached forward and stopped the video streaming. For a moment, Chloe expected a negative reaction. Anger, frustration, more morose hopelessness. Instead, that awe had given his lips a quirk, his eyes were still locked on that screen, but even from a profile view, Chloe could tell it worked.

"I can't believe they'd risk coming out to defend me." Clark muttered, pleasantly amazed.

A silent little smirk, and Chloe shook her head, grinning. "You have no idea how much you mean to people, Clark Kent." Her tone was sincere. Chloe knew it was true. Clark had lived his whole life relatively unaware of the impact he had to others. Even his closest friends. He turned, and the smile he sent her way might've been small, but it suddenly lifted Chloe's heart. It had worked.

And then he started to walk away, the moping evident before he'd even started. He slipped around Lois and made it halfway from the bullpen before he finally voiced his concerns. "I don't think a couple hundred testimonials will be enough to change the vote."

Chloe's eyebrows went up. Last year, he'd taken all of this in stride. Now? He seemed shocked that anyone could still support him. "Try a couple hundred _thousand._" Chloe stated, crossing her arms over her chest. Clark stopped, turning to face her. "All of them willing to step forward for you." For just a moment, Chloe let herself feel a little pride for her part in all of the plan. "They just needed a place to be heard."

Clark managed a half smile, but her words hadn't quite sunk in. It wasn't enough.

It wasn't until Lois stepped forward, and Clark looked to her that Chloe's heart twisted with jealousy she couldn't name. It wasn't romantic. It just... was. Chloe had left, and while she'd been off doing things that blurred those lines between right and wrong, all for her friends...

They'd moved on without her. Most importantly, Clark had moved on. Mrs. Kent was wrong.

"You're an American hero, Clark." Lois said softly. Chloe expected to be forgotten as the moment shared between those two wasn't something she had a right to intrude upon. And she knew, deep down, that it would always happen. She'd said for years that she wasn't the hero, and it wasn't her fate to be at Clark's side forever. Some day, others would have to take that role. Fate had told her as much. Martha had said that Jonathan was her best friend as well as her husband. And Chloe was going to have to give up the role of best friend to both Lois and Clark at some point. It wasn't... bad. But, Chloe could feel a sinking sense of resignation creeping in. When that happened, they wouldn't need her anymore. They'd have each other.

And then Clark looked to her again, as if he needed one last reassurance.

_If you need a beacon, then just look at the people who are with you not because you're the Blur, but because you're their friends. _Sam.

_Oh_.

That was what he meant.

Chloe's lips curved upwards, but that smile didn't quite make it to her eyes. It didn't matter, though. Clark was growing further away, but for now, at least... Chloe was still a lighthouse, a light to help show the path to his home. Wherever that was.

She just had no idea what shore she was on anymore. Or how long she would be there to cut the darkness and illuminate the way home.


End file.
